


A Scene to Remember

by kaalee



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Slash, The Quidditch Pitch: The Changing Room
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-11-25
Updated: 2007-11-25
Packaged: 2018-10-26 15:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10789083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaalee/pseuds/kaalee
Summary: [Seamus/Dean]Seamus wants.He wants the air to thicken, wants the world to lighten, wants the monotony of wrong to split open and disintegrate. He wants to crawl inside Dean, wants to share breath, blood, and muscle. Wants this moment to stretch into desire-stained hours so that they no longer remember the world.





	A Scene to Remember

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).
> 
>  **Author's notes:** This is dedicated to the sneaky co-conspirators who dreamed up and executed [kaalee-appreciation day](http://kaalee.livejournal.com/277829.html): [](http://oconel.livejournal.com/profile)[**oconel**](http://oconel.livejournal.com/) & [](http://wook77.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://wook77.livejournal.com/)**wook77**. You both totally and completely dominate. Really, this is dedicated to everyone that took a moment to wish me a happy day. Thank you _all_ so much for making me feel like a queen. This little ficlet can, in no way, show my appreciation, but it's a small token. (rather a bit porny, so be warned)

**A Scene to Remember** **  
seamus/dean, ~1290 words, rated R**

  
  
~for [](http://oconel.livejournal.com/profile)[**oconel**](http://oconel.livejournal.com/) & [](http://wook77.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://wook77.livejournal.com/)**wook77** ♥

::

  
  
Seamus shuts the door behind him, drops his satchel, and pulls Dean against him.  
  
"Wha-" Dean says, his eyes widening.  
  
"Don't," Seamus cuts him off. "Don't say anything. Just-" He spins their bodies, pushing Dean hard against the door, holding him there -- pressing Dean's shoulders against the paint-chipped wood and looking hungrily at him. He can see Dean's chest rising and falling under his tight t-shirt (maroon -- the colour of molten hot desire) and lunges at him, sucking eagerly at the soft pliant wet of Dean's lower lip, then licks him full on the mouth. Seamus feels wild, untamed, and when a low noise escapes Dean's throat, he leans down to find the origin. He licks, sucks, devours every inch of the dark, dark skin. He tastes the salted sour of Dean's skin, grazes skin-covered bone with his teeth, and licks a slow line over Dean's adams apple.  
  
His hands are still pressed against Dean's shoulders, not restraining him, but keeping him here (because, because...) and he feels every movement of every muscle fibre Dean uses.  
  
Seamus wants.  
  
He wants the air to thicken, wants the world to lighten, wants the monotony of wrong to split open and disintegrate. He wants to crawl inside Dean, wants to share breath, blood, and muscle. Wants this moment to stretch into desire-stained hours so that they no longer remember the world.  
  
Every breath hurts when he feels like this and Seamus needs Dean now; he needs the pull-push strength of him. He _needs_.  
  
Dean kisses him back, tongues touching slippery-wet and pulling Seamus's hands down to his hips. Seamus lets his hands fall, focuses instead on the sliver of warm Dean skin teasing the tips of his fingers, and tries to remember that breathing is one of the key elements of staying alive for this.  
  
Moans and muffled pants float above them, hovering, coating the air around them like a disillusionment charm. This thought pings through Seamus's mind like an alarm and he reaches for his wand, tears his lips tackily from Dean's and stares through eyes he's barely remembering to focus. Magic courses through him in slow motion and Seamus points his wand at Dean's collar, whispering a charm that severs every thread, splitting a slow maroon-brown-maroon V down the center of Dean's chest. For every inch he splits, Seamus licks a small star above, and by the time he reaches the thin trail of hair under Dean's navel he can hear Dean's throaty-wet gasps slide inside him like a scene to remember.  
  
"Seamus, _Shame_ -" Dean pants, his fingers falling from whatever they were touching and digging nail ridges into the soft wood of the door.  
  
The low timbre of Dean's voice slides through him and Seamus loses at least four full seconds for it. When he comes to, he's in front of the fastenings on Dean's trousers, face to face with the ever-widening path of softly curled hair and he leans forward, nosing it, inhaling, thinking: 'oh, oh, oh _yes_...'  
  
With hands that are barely gentle, Seamus pulls open the button and zip, suddenly falling back into the brilliant insanity that threw him against Dean in the first place. He feels quietly insatiable, pulling Dean's trousers down, thinking words like ' _more_ ' and licking his lips like he's about to taste something amazing.  
  
Sliding his fingers, Seamus touches inches and inches of skin, then rubs his thumbs inward until they touch wrinkled soft... Dean sucks a breath, then Seamus sucks the tip -- just the tip, because the rest comes later -- of Dean's cock into his mouth and thinks: ' _fucking yes._ ' It's slow at first. Slow like he's been waiting for this for his whole damn life. And maybe he has. Because something about sliding the entire length of Dean's cock into his mouth feels like it should be something he lets himself experience.  
  
Two minutes later, he does.  
  
His mouth is coated slippery-wet and the feel of Dean stretching him wide (not quite like a yawn) is something that would set him nine "Hail Marys" in confession. Reaching upward, Seamus anchors himself to Dean at his hips, thumbing the skin gently as he starts to move. It's slippery, this touching, and Dean's cock is heavy on his tongue when he moans his own arousal. Pulling back, he taps just under the head with his tongue, sucking the crown of Dean's cock back into his mouth and wrapping his other hand around the length.  
  
He teases, tastes, worships, and when Dean opens his mouth wide to pant, "You're... ohmygod, Seamus- I-I'm... oh, _fuck_ ," Seamus thinks Dean's incoherency might be priced in galleons on the open market. He looks up briefly, seeing Dean watching him with heavy lust-lidded eyes (oh god), and his lower lip biteably slack.  
  
It must be this glance that springs Dean into action, because before he knows it, Seamus is hauled up by his underarms and Dean's hands are fumbling over, then under his trousers. The shock of it reduces his reaction time to underwater-slow and it's a small eternity before Seamus kicks out of one trouser leg, plants his hands on either side of Dean's shoulders and pushes their cocks together with a slow hiss of unexpressed desire.  
  
This time there are few sounds. It's as though someone cast _Silencio_ on a select few things and then left the rest in perfect pitch. He can only hear the slippery sounds of their skin sliding and rubbing (so perfectly) together. If he concentrates, it sounds like craving, like unrestrained need. Every few moments Dean pants -- so perfectly erotic that Seamus wants to suck that sound into his mouth and swallow it down.  
  
He's so fucking into Dean Thomas right now that it'll probably take years to get this out of his system. If he even wants to.  
  
Dean's hands slide down to the muscles of his buttocks and Seamus can feel Dean guiding him, pushing them together. Seamus feels his hips rolling, concentrates for the first few clenches of his backside as they thrust together, but then it's all involuntary muscles -- like the ones he learned about in some odd anatomy lesson -- his body is moving without him, letting him feel and think and try not to die at all once.  
  
Seamus breathes deeply, digs his fingernails into the wood above Dean's shoulders and braces his knee against the door. Dean looks at him, and Seamus looks back and they look so hard this way it's like they've melded somehow, which is just pretty fucking weird, except that Seamus is not doing anything to stop it. He's just staring at Dean with probably the stupidest look of longing on his face and he can't stop it but to think that this feels better than any wank he's ever had and if they don't stop this rocking, panting, grabbing, yes...  
  
If they don't, he'll...  
  
(god, oh god)  
  
Seamus is liable to--  
  
"Gonna come," he warns. "Dean, I-"  
  
It starts behind his eyelids, the sparking, jeweled set of white lights that pop all over his body in some perfectly determined pattern. He feels every wave, every shudder, every bliss-sparked moment and he's coming... god, over his stomach and under his skin and he can barely breathe for the smell and the sweat and the feel of it.  
  
After a few quiet, blind moments, Seamus is aware that there's wet on his stomach that's not just his. He forces himself to blink, then breathe, before he looks at Dean. The silence is dangerously loud.  
  
"So," Seamus starts.  
  
"So?" Dean says, glancing down at their stomachs, then up at Seamus with a grin.  
  
"Yeah," Seamus hedges. "So, now that we've-- uh, well... maybe we ought to go out some time?"  
  


::

  
  
~thank you for reading! ♥


End file.
